


1-800-KLEEN-WING

by TheSnackThatSmilesBack



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Crack, Grooming, M/M, Oil Gland Kink, Oil glands, Wing Grooming, Wing Kink, Wingfic, Wings, cracky porn, idek anymore, or porny crack
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-19
Updated: 2014-11-30
Packaged: 2018-02-26 07:00:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2642516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSnackThatSmilesBack/pseuds/TheSnackThatSmilesBack
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean works for Kleen Wing Incorporated, a company that sends people to groom and clean angels' wings for them. He had heard tales of soul mates reacting.... differently.... to wing oil, but little did he know that they were true.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Call

**Author's Note:**

> Crack. Omg. So much crack. I'm a crack dealer.

Dean zipped up his case and set it on the kitchen counter as his phone began to ring. He looked at the caller ID, which didn't recognize the number. 

Must be someone from the agency, he thought. No one else calls at this time of night. 

"Hello," he said, clamping the phone between his shoulder and his ear so that he could start preparing himself a delicious sandwich. Ham was delicious with mustard and capers. So delicious. 

"Dean, it's me. We got another client here," said the head dispatcher of Kleen Wing, inc. 

"What's the address?" Dean asked. 

"1456 East Heaven Street, apartment number 23."

"I'll be over very soon," Dean said. He was excited. Kleening brought in good money, usually $450 to $570 for one session. 

He forgot all about his beautiful sandwich, grabbed his case, hopped in his beautiful car and headed over to Heaven Street. 

When he buzzed Apartment 23's buzzer, a deep man's voice answered. 

"Hello?" It sounded like a lighthouse in the night. 

"Hi, I'm Dean. I'm here with 1-800-KLEEN-WING."

"Ah. Yes. Come in."

Dean went into the stately and impressive apartment building and rode the elevator up to the second floor, passing by apartments 21, 22, 25, and 26, until he came to 23 and 24. He knocked cautiously on the door. It opened immediately and he felt himself being grabbed and pulled inside.


	2. The Client

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean meets the angel.

"Hey!" Dean objected. "Just who do you think you are, grabbing me like tha-"

"Shhh. My neighbors must not see you."

"Bu-"

Dean stopped short as he got a good look at the angel. He was about Dean's height, brunet, with limpid blue eyes that made Dean feel like he was lost at sea. Behind him, a magnificent pair of wings, the best he had ever seen, were drooping on the carpet. They were a shiny obsidian and usually dark wings meant that kleening was a pain in the ass but somehow Dean didn't think he'd mind so much. 

"You're gorgeous," he blurted. 

"How unprofessional of you."

"Oops."

"Shall we get started?"


	3. The Chiseled Chest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean beholds a work of beauty.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> maybe this entire fic is a prostitution metaphor. The world will never know
> 
>  
> 
> Thanks to Tess_Lucetram for pointing out the biggest continuity error of my fledgling career...ha

"I am Castiel."

"I'm Dean," Dean said. 

"I'm an angel of The Lord." 

"Well, no duh," Dean replied, rolling his green eyes sky high. "This is an angel cleaning service after all." He motioned to his case where there was a cartoony picture of a blonde angel taking a bubble bath, right over where it spelled out, in red letters, 1-800-KLEEN-WING. 

"Right." 

Dean had been around the block dozens of times. He knew that for Castiel to release his wings, he'd have to be topless. Castiel either didn't know this or wasn't eager to bare himself to a perfect stranger. 

"Where's the best place to do this?" Dean asked.

"I don't know."

"You've never gotten kleened before?"

"I am new to this form."

Dean gasped. Most of his clientele were seasoned pros at hiring, well, seasoned pros over the phone! Gosh, did that make him sound like a prostitute or what! 

"Well, for starters, you'll need to take off your shirt."

"Okay." Castiel acquiesced with a flick of the wrist. His shirt vanished into thin air as his irises glistened blue like two rings of light at the end of a pair of e-cigarettes. 

Dean stared. He always managed to forget the sheer power each one of his clients had boiling beneath the surface. 

Underneath, Castiel was chiseled as a Michelangelo statue. Dean resisted the urge to see if his shin was as smooth as marble. He cleared his throat and began to unzip his case. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gosh diddly darn what a cliffhanger


	4. The Case

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are short as hell. Lolololololol. 
> 
> Much thanks to Wikipedia for providing helpful articles. U my bae.

Castiel looked over his shoulder at the contents of his case: long, thin tweezers, sharp silver scissors, a bottle of expensive preen oil gathered from the uropygial glands of thousands of hummingbirds on the off chance that the angel's own uropygial glands were malfunctioning, and a small handheld vacuum cleaner-esque device for particularly stubborn bits of debris. 

"I am quite able to produce my own wing oil," Castiel said. 

"I know, Cas- look, can I call you Cas? Ok? Good." Dean didn't wait for an answer. "But some of the youngest can't, and I never know whose wings I'm going to be grooming."

At the word 'grooming', Cas swallowed audibly. 

"You know, you can't say uropygial glands without saying Europe," Dean joked, trying to lighten the mood. It didn't work. Cas tilted his head adorably to the side. 

Damn those eyes. 

"So should we do this on the bed?" Cas asked. Dean chuckled and mumbled something under his breath that sounded strangely like 'buy me dinner first'. 

"The couch should be fine, as long as you can put your wings over the back comfortably."

"Okay."

"Okay."

Dean hesitated. He normally had no trouble getting over the initial awkward phases of the client to groomer relationship, but something about this oceanic eyes....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Someone should write a serious version of this fic


	5. The Couch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cas sits down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I do this to myself mon I tell u

Cas broke the strangely long eye contact first, in order to move around to the couch. He sat down gracefully, like a mermaid or merman settling down on a rock to comb his or her hair as a whirlpool of beautiful multicolored fishes swam around him or her. 

Dean followed in his wake, standing behind Castiel as he set his wings gently behind the back of the couch. They were even more bedraggled up close, with shed feathers tangled up in those still attached to the wing. Dust clung to them, rendering the black a dull, dark, matte grey. Dean had groomed enough wings to know that they almost always had a beautiful, shiny sheen, like a fish's scales. 

Castiel cleared his throat and Dean realized abruptly that he'd been staring for too long. 

"Oh, uh, sorry," he said, hastily shoving his hands into the feathers. He cursed himself silently. What happened to his devoutly professional demeanor? It seemed to have evaporated like steam rising off of the sea. 

Cas let out a strange exhale when Dean's hands were a little rougher on his feathers than he expected. 

"Sorry," Dean said again. His fingers were shaking. Shaking!!

"No, it feels- fine," Cas choked out.


	6. The Commencement

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean starts to groom Castiel.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: gratuitous interrobang usage ahead. Mainly because I wrote this on my phone which I've trained to change an exclamation point followed immediately by a question mark, or vice versa, into an interrobang. 
> 
> Also, it was really hard for me to resist the whole, "Dean wasn't gay! He liked girls! Not boys! Except for Dr. Sexy! But those damn blue eyes!" thing.

"So it's okay if I keep going?" Dean asked, his voice shaking as hard as his fingers. What was wrong with him‽ 

"Yes. Please, keep going," Cas replied. Dean gulped. He hasn't quite realized how gravelly his newest client's voice was. That, combined with the 'I just had sex with someone who liked to run their hands through my hair like a lot' hair, Castiel was one sexy dude. 

Dean gasped internally. Why was he thinking such things‽‽‽ He had a girlfriend, kind of. Key word girl. 

To break the weird spell, Dean began to him under his breath as he began to clean. 

"Britney Spears, 'Toxic'," Castiel said after a few bars. 

"Oh, um, yeah," Dean said, blinking. He hadn't realized what he was humming (embarrassing much?) and besides, Cas hadn't seemed like the kind of guy to know any music.

"It was playing on the radio the other day," Cas supplied. 

"Oh."

Dean's movements were small, hesitant, as he worked. He wasn't usually this nervous. But as he cleaned the feathers in a large streak of dust, his movements felt.....fumbly. If that wasn't a word, well, Dean was making it one now. 

He finished the streak of dirt he had been working on. It had been easy enough to do without the cleansing wing oil. He hovered his hand over one of Castiel's glands before slowly moving his fingers in to massage softly. Cas moaned very, very quietly, obviously trying to cover it up, as clear, sweet-smelling liquid gushed rapidly from the gland. It smelled like juniper berries and pine, like snow. Like warmth and cold all mixed together to form an equilibrium of perfect. 

Dean was overcome by the urge to taste it as Cas shifted in his seat and breathed heavily. 

"I- I didn't expect this to feel so good," Cas choked out, voice rough. 

Dean's hand was halfway to his mouth. 

It seemed his powers of self control were as weak as his knees right now.....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for all the short chapters. The holidaze are crazy daze. Also, I'm a terrible writer with 0 drive at all.


End file.
